DISCOVERY OF THE UPPER MISSISSIPPI.

It will be remembered, that, when La Salle found himself so unfortunately stopped among the Illinois, his active mind was promptly casting about for something to be achieved elsewhere. This object he found in the Upper Mississippi, which he determined should be explored in his absence, so interlocking his own discoveries with those of Joliet and Marquette. Two of his people were accordingly sent to perform this duty, with whom went Father Hennepin,[1] the Franciscan missionary before spoken of.

The party set out from Fort Crèvecœur on the last day of February, 1680, while at the same time La Salle was starting northward for Lake Ontario.

As historian of the expedition, Hennepin's vanity has led him to claim the leadership for himself, while he accuses La Salle of meaning to get rid of him,[2] in the same breath. We know, however, from La Salle that neither is true. La Salle was much too good a judge of character not to see through the friar after so long trial of him, though, knowing him to be capable, he gave him the chance of being useful. For the expedition itself, it is certain La Salle had it much at heart. Touching Hennepin's narrative, La Salle dryly says the friar "spoke more according to his wishes than what he knew," or, in the familiar phrase, was in the habit of drawing on his imagination for his facts.

Hennepin himself seems to have been that singular anomaly, seldom met with in real life, a brave braggart, whose self-conceit and arrogant self-assertion stand forth in strong contrast with the modesty and patience always shown by La Salle when he is speaking of his own achievements. And it is further characteristic of the two men, that while one felt he could afford to wait for time to do him justice, the other sought the cheap glory to be had by sounding his own praise abroad, even when exposure was certain to follow. So that nothing Hennepin has written can be accepted as true, without other evidence to substantiate it. The more is the pity! But the exaggerations of all our early chronicles show that they were penned by men influenced by the passions or rivalries of the time, often so distorting what is true as to make it fit the particular end they may have had in view. To this lamentable want of integrity may be attributed the fact that history has so often to be re-written.

For six weeks the explorers plied their paddles against the current of the Mississippi unmolested. One day when they had drawn their canoe on shore to repair it, the Frenchmen were suddenly surrounded by a war party of Sioux[3]—the very people of all others whom they most wished to avoid.

In a moment the whites were made prisoners. The scowling looks and threatening gestures of their captors boded them no good. Hennepin proffered the peace-pipe. It was snatched from his hand. When he began muttering prayers aloud, the Indians angrily signed to him to be silent, thinking he was preparing some charm to overpower them with, but they let him chant the same prayers, he says, thinking there could be no sorcery or medicine in song. Presently the Sioux began their homeward journey, thus making it clear to the Frenchmen that their future discoveries must be made as captives.

In nineteen days the party landed near the site of St. Paul.[4] From here the trail was struck leading to the Sioux villages, which were reached after five days of hard marching and harder usage at the hands of the Sioux warriors.

Here the prisoners were separated, Hennepin going to an aged chief who adopted him as his own son. So they passed the winter among the Sioux.

In the following summer, when the Sioux went on their annual buffalo hunt, they took the three Frenchmen along with them. This was the prisoners' opportunity for regaining their liberty, and they hastened to make use of it. La Salle had promised to send word of himself to them at the mouth of the Wisconsin, and they knew he would not fail them. Telling the Sioux their friends were coming, loaded with gifts, the greedy Sioux were easily induced to let Hennepin and one other go down the river to meet them alone and unguarded. One Frenchman remained behind with the Sioux as a hostage for the others.

The two whites began their descent of the river, carrying their canoe round the Falls of St. Anthony,[5] to which Father Hennepin gave this name, till, after many adventures, Lake Pepin[6] was reached.

To their consternation, the travellers were overtaken at this point by a party of Sioux who had followed their prisoners so closely, as hardly to lose sight of them, and now pushed on ahead to the Wisconsin. Finding neither traders[7] nor goods there, as they had been led to expect, the Sioux paddled back again in bad humor to the place where the whites had remained. After being soundly rated for the cheat they had practised, the unlucky whites were forced to turn about and go back again as they came.

After some longer stay among the Sioux, the captives were found by some French traders who had made their way from Lake Superior, through the Sioux country, to the Mississippi. Hearing of the three white men, while on the way, these traders had kept on from village to village, till they reached the one in which Hennepin and his companions were detained, and ransomed them out of the hands of the savages.

At the head of the rescuing party was one Du Lhut, or Duluth, for whom the city of Duluth is named, as Lake Pepin is also said to have been named for another of this party. Thus, in St. Anthony's Falls, Lake Pepin, and Duluth we have a group of names commemorating the men of La Salle's exploring party, as well as the exploration itself.

All the Frenchmen now returned to the Sioux villages at Mille Lac together.

They finally made their way back to the French settlements by the Wisconsin and Green Bay route, as Marquette had done before them, and the Sioux[8] also for many generations had travelled to the great lake.